


They May Not Know Where I’m Coming From

by Soul4Sale



Series: We Hang Like Sneakers From The Power Line [3]
Category: South Park
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Gay, Gore, Language, M/M, Shady Dealings, Slash, Yaoi, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was an accident. The second time was a secret deal. The third time had been a bloodbath. The fourth time was necessary. The fifth time was illegal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They May Not Know Where I’m Coming From

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just wanted to write a Five Times fic with my new OT3, and… It turned into a monster piece. xD Geez, I sort of can’t believe it. But, I do hope you guys enjoy it! I sure had fun writing it. ouo

The first time was an accident.

Craig had wandered into Tweak Bros. Coffee sometime after midnight, because his lover was running later than usual and that usually meant some kind of crisis. When he heard the usual shouts and the sound of long, thin limbs smacking into wood, he jogged through the front of the shop and let himself into the back room.

“Tweekers? Whatever it is, I’m he-... Here, now.” Eyes narrowed on the curly-haired blond holding his precious Tweek, Craig placed his hands on his hips and rose one articulate brow. “What the fuck is going on, here?” The middle finger was added for effect, even as the taller blond scrambled in his awkward lap-dog settlement in this mystery man’s lap. He looked like a Great Dane trying to sit in a child’s lap, with the way his elbows and knees seemed everywhere all at once, digging in and smacking all in their own time. When Tweek was finally settled, he tried to speak, his words quaking with his voice.

“The gno-gnomes, he s-saw them, too--”

“Hold on. _You_ saw the gnomes, kid?” Craig looked rather skeptical, but before he could say anything else, a hand was held up and he looked doubly ready to fight this kid. Tweek _needed_ to be held right now.

“ _Kid_? I’ll have you know that I’ve had a 4.0 grade point average since before you could count that high. My name is _Gregory_ , and if you would kindly take your middle finger and shov--”

Suddenly, the room went silent. Afraid of the imminent fight, Tweek had panicked and kissed this Gregory, solidly and on the mouth, and even the leftover gnomes were silent. Jealous as he could be, Craig crossed the room in three strides and weaseled his way in, making it a three-way kiss. His biggest rule was that if Tweek was involved, he was going to be, too. 

The second time was a secret deal.

“Look,” Craig’s middle finger had been itching to nearly poke Gregory in the eye, but instead it settled for pressing to his lips to shut him up, “Tweek’s a handful and a half. I’d be lying if I said I could wear him out all by myself.”

“I bet I could do it.” That high-and-mighty tone nearly bruised that ‘perfect’ face, but Craig managed to reign it in.

“To do it, you need to pretty much be on him constantly. It’d be easier for another person to help tag-team him, you know? He might not think so, but he needs to sleep, sometimes.” 

“That much we can agree on.” Gregory still had that stupid sneer on his face, like he knew better and _was_ better just because he existed. 

“What I’m saying, is. If you’re up for sharing Tweek--”

“I think the _real_ question is, are _you_ up for sharing him? I hear you punched _yourself_ in the face out of jealousy, once.” Gregory was three seconds away from swallowing his impeccably white teeth. It was an act of God that kept Craig’s fist from connecting with his stupid smug face, but an act of habit that had him offering his Double Finger Defense, instead. 

“For some reason, he likes you enough to paint you. If he’d pick you to love him, too, then I guess I’ll just punch you when you fuck up.”

“Paint me…?” The moment of frightful hesitation on the otherwise haughty blond’s face was enough to give Craig a small case of smugness. As soon as he caught sight of it, though, Gregory was fixing his wall right back into place, “Of course, he paints me. I’m gorgeous. And your fist will get real tired of waiting, I’d never be able to fuck up anything.”

Somehow, they both knew it was a lie. Even more odd, they both found themselves dragging Tweek (kicking and screaming) to Craig’s house in a kind of barely companionable silence. It had been five days since the last time the flailing blond had slept, and that was unacceptable. Even under a steady rain of kisses, Craig and Gregory had probably taken on more than they could handle with trying to make that happen.

The third time had been a bloodbath.

Gregory had been missing for upwards of three weeks, six days, twelve hours and forty-two minutes, but Tweek certainly wasn’t counting. He knew that the other blond had a job, and it wasn’t strictly ‘by the book’, but the lack of communication always left him more nervous than usual. Whenever he _did_ hear back, it was always a little push to go hang out with Craig, make sure he’s okay, ‘people change in a day, love, go make sure he’s alright’. Somewhere deep down, they both knew that it wasn’t so much about Craig not being okay, but more about Tweek not being alone. 

What the barely conscious blond had never expected was to manage to limp his way to Tweek’s house, falling on his front porch, his gold and opal handgun held to his chest. Blood was everywhere, he couldn’t remember where his ended and his enemies’ began, and that was worrisome. Hoping that he was right, he had been lucky and had managed to evade them, despite the blood trail he’d left behind, he whipped out his phone and tried to steady his voice. Poking at the missed call he’d gotten earlier, the one that had sounded and gotten him a bullet in his kneecap, he pulled the phone up to his ear and breathed out, slow. The first ring didn’t even finish before Tweek had picked up, a little bright spot in the otherwise dreary day.

“Gregory? Man, I thought I’d--”

“Love, you wouldn’t mind coming down and getting me, would you? I’m afraid I’ve pushed it too much, already.” There was something in his voice that had Tweek moving in seconds, peering out his window before grabbing Craig by the arm and hauling him to his feet. 

“Wha-- Tweek, what ab--” Their game of Monopoly was abandoned as the pair stomped down the stairs, rushing out the front door. “Shitballs.” 

“Honestly, Craig, do you need to be so… Vulgar?” The laughter that left the curly haired blond was a little self-depreciating, but maybe that was more from his injury than anything.

“ _Gregory_ ,” Tweek’s voice was so high-pitched that it caused the pair to look at him like he was sprouting a moose from his right ear, “Wh-what the _fuck_ , man? I don’t… What… Why did…” He couldn’t seem to finish a sentence, and his words mashed together the more he spoke, “Gregory whose _blood_ is that?” Terror was apparent, even as Craig hefted the other blond up, a roll of his eyes and heavy sigh leaving him.

“Oh, love, don’t be so-- _Ouch_ , you brute, be careful.” Well, he must not have been dying, at least, if he still had it in him to sass the man trying to help him, “Love, don’t look so melancholy.” There he went, pulling out the twelve dollar words to try and focus on anything other than the pain in his knee and the advancing dampness from his side. There was something there, maybe glass, and it was grinding against the front of Craig’s shirt something awful. “It’s nothing some tweezers, painkillers and kisses can’t cure.” The latter would have to come last, sadly, even though he could see the woozy way Tweek followed them up to his bedroom.

By the time Gregory was laid out on the bottom bunk of the bed, Tweek was nearly crawling on his hands and knees. There was _way_ too much blood, it was everywhere, he could see it rising in a flood around them-- And, just like that, Craig was left to deal with a passed out Tweek and a nearly-exsanguinated Gregory. Pushing up his sleeves, he sighed, getting to work taking care of his blonds, no matter how many times he was vulgar just to spite them (read: Gregory).

Four hours later, Tweek came to, laid out on the top bunk of his bed, painfully alone. The soft grunts of Craig scrubbing the carpet lulled him in and out of sleep for a few long minutes before he sat up enough to gaze over the railing to watch him. 

“Craig?” The soft question didn’t even make the dark haired male flinch; instead, he glanced up and nodded.

“Gregory’s alright. I’m glad you are, too. You can come down, we’ll hold you. I think someone needs his prescription.” Watching the thin, tall blond drop down from the top bunk with a bit of a smirk, middle finger aimed at his lovers the second his mind focused too long on being the shortest in the room. Still trying to mop up the blood in the carpet so it wouldn’t stain, he watched as Tweek slid over Gregory somehow, like some kind of odd human table being scooted around, a bemused look on his face. Of course, he didn’t stay in place for too long; the second Tweek’s lips found Gregory’s, he wanted in on the action. 

The fourth time was necessary.

Craig had opened the window to let out the smoke when he’d started, and those two hours ago, he hadn’t expected to be hefting Gregory in by his belt loops. What he also hadn’t expected was to get a kiss out of it, long and slow and surprisingly gentle, like he was clinging to something, anything, for life. With Gregory’s hands fisted in the blue Superman t-shirt Craig wore, their lips meshed in a way that shocked the stockier man, it seemed it was Tweek’s turn to get jealous.

Walking into the room to find his boyfriends locked at the lips, what was both a shocked and frustrated yell left him and he nearly dropped his mug of coffee on the floor. Thinking better of it, he set it down beside the TV and stomped over, skinny limbs trying to help further pull Gregory into the room (and demand an explanation for why he was left out). By the time they’d finally pulled the curly-haired blond through the window, Tweek taking his lower half as Craig’s mouth was still busy with the front, the coffee was cold and the smell of stale smoke was almost replaced with the chill night air.

Having found a seat on the bottom bunk of the bed the three of them shared fairly often, the dejected blond was busy tugging at a few bandaids on his arms, from scratches that had gotten too deep. He tugged at the edges, eyelids barely even twitching at the light pulling on the hairs there. Lost in staring at the drawer he had once kept his underpants in, Tweek didn’t realize until he was laid out on his back that Gregory and Craig had finally ended their insanely long make-out session. It appeared to be his turn, but something shocked him about how this kiss felt.

Gregory had always been the kind of man that played coy almost constantly. Nobody mattered to him, even if they did, because his pride was his Number One. The fact that he seemed to pour eight months worth of emotion into a two-minute kiss was enough to have Tweek pulling back and cupping his cheeks to stop him (albeit weakly) from continuing.

“Are you okay?” The worry in his voice was evident, and had icy blue eyes looking at anything but his own. “Gregory.” Giving his head a little shake, Tweek gazed up at him with determination and concern written all over his face.

Focusing in on the taller blond, Gregory heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, knocking their foreheads together. _Just let me have this. Please._ died in the arid desert of his throat, and he had to bite his lip to hold back the torrent of emotions churning just below the surface.

“Hey.” Craig spoke, jarring him out of himself with a kick to his foot, still on the floor. Had he been home, Gregory’s mother would have immediately known that he’d tracked in mud, and he’d be tasked with cleaning it. Tweek would probably take care of the mess later, when Gregory had cried himself to sleep and Craig pretended they weren’t cuddling. “He asked you a question.” Prompted the younger, crossing his arms and flipping the pair off.

“I--” He began, voice cracking uncharacteristically, before he ground his teeth a moment, trying to tamp down on the emotion building. Already, Gregory could feel tears prickling his eyes and nose and it was embarrassing and too real and awfully _dismal_ , when it came down to it. “I’m leaving.” He finally managed, somehow managing to reign himself back, pull up a wall and keep it in place. Damn these two for taking jackhammers to his resolve months ago. It was so damn hard to keep up the visage of indifference when those indigo eyes looked up at him pleadingly, and he could feel Craig’s disapproving presence behind him. 

The smallest male crawled up onto the bed, somehow prompting Gregory and Tweek to lay properly instead of in the center of the mattress. For what felt like the first time, Craig lay on one side of the Brit, and Tweek on the other, caging him in. It felt more like being strapped down to a rickety, wooden chair with the threat of violence if he didn’t give them the information they sought. Gulping, he finally let himself look at Tweek, who was talking, but suddenly, everything seemed muted. 

“--This isn’t just a job, is it?” Whatever he’d been saying, all those words that stretched into the empty space and curled up like an unwanted guest all around them, boiled down to one thing. He had already done to much for this to seem inconspicuous. Gregory was caught in the act trying to do what he thought was right, what he thought would hurt less, and all it was doing was making his heart hammer in his chest, his hands sweat, and his eyes begin to roll credits. 

“No.” The hoarse reply was made with closed eyes, and a sigh left the Brit as he tried his best to force them open, look at Craig if he had to. Just not those intense indigo eyes, the ones that wrote _guilty_ and _deserter_ on his own view of himself. “I… Need to return to London for an indeterminant amount of time, and I fear that me being away so long--”

“You aren’t afraid.” Craig stated coldly, his brown eyes narrowed a little, “Not of hurting us.” He tacked on after a wild look from Tweek. “You’re going to London to get out of this because you’re scared of something else.”

As much as people didn’t give Craig enough credit, this was one of the times that Gregory wished he could just pretend to be the idiot people wrote him off as sometimes. 

“Look. I ran into some… Complications.” The truth wasn’t coming out tonight, he wasn’t about to let them wrestle it out of him like a couple of brutes. Then again, he wouldn’t have placed any money on a bet that said if he kept everything from them, they wouldn’t decide to punch his pretty face (despite the obvious protests). “I can’t do this anymore. I’m hardly the best piece of this puzzle,” Being pinned down like this was growing uncomfortable, and his need to flee was making his stomach flip flop like an unhappy child, “You two will always have each other, and whoever else may waltz in and take up residence when you ne--”

“You _can’t_ just do this.” Tweek’s voice was quiet, quivering, borderline unheard, “We love you.” 

The shock that hit Gregory at this admission was enough to have him slowly turning to Craig, who, despite his intense, coffee-eyed stare, nodded slowly, solemnly. 

“We do. _We’re_ invested, Gregory. And we know you are, too.” 

“I am no such--”

“Then why did you kiss _me_ of all people? You typically prefer to kiss Tweek. I’m too rough, remember?” Chomping his teeth together as an example, Craig rose a brow, “So try again, Princess.” This was a teasing coo, the sort that usually would have had Gregory up in arms, but something about the entire energy of the room kept him quiet for a long moment. When Tweek broke the silence again, it drew him out of his dismal thoughts long enough to focus on his every word.

“Why are you really leaving?” Again, his words came out barely above a whisper, hardly anything to the way he stared at the top bunk, his cheek pressed to Gregory’s so they could feel each other’s every expression. He understood that was part of the way the other was able to understand things, Tweek had always been tacticle, but this was… Almost too much for him right now.

Silence stretched on until all three young men felt awkward because of it, each of them handling it in a way that made them feel a little less lost in a sea of emotion. Tweek practically shifted to lay on top of both of his lovers, Craig settled in with customary middle fingers all around, and Gregory had started to rub the small of Tweek’s back out of habit. They stayed like that so long that Craig was nearly asleep when Gregory decided what version of the truth he wanted to give them.

“You aren’t safe with me.” Voice cracking a bit, he shook his head to relieve himself of fear. Pretending he wasn’t delivering as harsh news as this, he finally cracked, “A deal went… Wrong. You two are in grave danger because someone is willing to pay top dollar to make sure I am miserable, and I will not be the reason you both die too soon.”

Marinating in this information, Craig and Tweek shared a long look, leaving Gregory to feel left out. Whenever they did those ‘long conversations with no words’ things, it always felt a little unfair, like a little dig at how he hadn’t been there during the entirety of the relationship, like they had. Soon after, however, the sort of inclusion they really had with him shone bright enough to calm him slightly. 

“So? Who cares.” Craig finally said, a shrug in his words as he drug a hand down Gregory’s arm, locking their fingers. On the other side, Tweek’s thin hand took hold of the other’s wrist, thumb pressing against his pulse point.

“We all die. Every single person on this planet is going to die. It doesn’t matter if you never let a single impurity touch you, you’re still going to die. Maybe you put it off an extra year or fifteen, what’s the point if everyone around you is dying, anyway? Life is what you make of it. If being with Tweek and me makes you happy, that’s what counts. Not ‘oh, I make everyone miserable so that we maybe not die for another twenty minutes’. That’s fucking bullshit, dude.” 

Something so insightful leaving the lips of somebody like Craig Tucker seemed to shock Gregory into stillness, eyes staring blankly ahead. When he finally managed to move again, he glanced to Tweek above him, who was busy kissing his lips back into movement.

“Do you feel that way, as well, love?” He questioned, finally managing to nuzzle their lips apart long enough to speak.

“Ye-yes. There’s no po-point in living if you aren’t happy.” Tweek offered, sitting up slowly so that he was bent up beneath the top bunk and Gregory’s body. “If you’re happy with us, we’ll ro-roll with the punches. We’ll make it work.”

“Anyway, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to find someone else that Tweek meshed with so easily.” Craig added, rising onto his elbow and looking down at Gregory, a small, rare smile on his face. “And maybe I like you, too.”

“Only like?” Gregory waggled his eyebrows, his ego firmly back in place.

“Don’t push it.”

The fifth time was illegal.

“You know,” Gregory spoke, looking over the top of the newspaper he’d insisted they subscribe to when they bought this house, “It’s technically illegal.”

“What is, _darling_?” Craig questioned, flipping through his phone with his middle finger, not really reading anything, but enjoying watching the page stop when it ran out of juice.

“I-Illegal? Since wh-when has ‘legal’ ever b-been a problem in this house?” Tweek asked, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. The sweater he wore, dark brown with a stark yellow YARDALE on the front, was bunched up over his hands, which Gregory thought was a fire hazard, considering he was making breakfast.

“To live with someone you might be interested in and be married.” Gregory pointed out, sneaking a hand away from the paper to stir absently at his own coffee, the sugar he’d put in it almost forgotten. 

“We all got married outside of the states, it’s perfectly legal, remember?” Craig drawled, his interest piqued by a story about reflex and the brain, “You made sure of it with your shady ass friends.”

“Anyway, it’s no-not like anyone in Park County is really going to do anything about it. We still get that Gay Allowance from Officer Barbrady, on occasion.” Tweek was quick to add, turning and setting his mug down, finally flipping Gregory’s over-medium eggs and tending to his and Craig’s scrambled with extra cheese. The smell of bacon floated through the kitchen, and Craig rose, finally, to help get the toast going. They all knew that toast on the stovetop wasn’t the best idea, because of Tweek’s self-imposed ‘flipping anxiety’. 

“Can I get that egg and bacon to go? English muffin, please.” Gregory stood, his suit perfectly in place and properly tailored, taking a long sip from his forgotten coffee. “I’ve got a meeting early, can’t miss it.” 

Almost like clockwork, the three had the sandwich ready, wrapped in paper towels and a travel mug of coffee in Gregory’s other hand. He pecked both of his lovers on the cheek before rushing out the door, leaving Tweek to press into Craig’s embrace as he finished setting up their breakfast, as well. A gentle kiss was shared between them before they sat to have an amiable enough meal, discussing the article Craig had skimmed and something or other that Tweek had to turn in at school. Illegal as it may have been, there was no happier home than the Tweak-Tucker-Thompson house.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I seriously can’t believe this is done. o.o It took me maybe a week of on-and-off working on this to get it done, and it’s almost a whole eight pages. Geez. I hope you guys enjoyed it!


End file.
